Posterity Now

Philly jazz pianist Dave Posmontier returns to the clubs with his first solo record.

by A.D. Amorosi

Neal Santos HEART ON HIS KEYS: "I always wanted to make an album of my own," says jazz vet Dave Posmontier. "Just never got around to it."

[ Jazz ]

With his quartet's Posterity having just been released, scratch the latter off that list. The yelling bit? Not likely.

He's played on plenty of Philly jazz classics: trumpeter John Swana's The Feeling's Mutual, a 1984 recording of the Posmontier Brothers Quintet (with his brother Rich) titled PBQ, and Here's My Heart from the late adventurous vocalist Zan Gardner. "I always wanted to make an album of my own but just never got around to it," Posmontier says quietly.

Being an even-tempered, low-talking gent doesn't mean that there hasn't been passion, grit and humor in his work. Quite the opposite. For all the Brahms on Posterity, there's heavy blues and gospel covers, too. There's a soulful swing to his compositions, to say nothing of his rigorous acoustic piano style. The Temple U math major has been part of one of Philly's coolest organ trios with Micky Roker and Bootsie Barnes since the early '70s. By the late '70s, he was playing with guitarist Steve Giordano's Chosen Few — a vocal trio whose matching outfits Posmontier keeps stashed in his attic. "Green suit, white shoes, polka-dot shirt," he recalls. "We were too hip." Along with being one-fourth of violinist John Blake's Quartet, Posmontier is also the synth-playing "Dr. Funk" in the dippy Klingon Klezmer. "They're a zany act that takes me out of my element."

Longtime fans know Posmontier took himself out of his usual element throughout the 2000s. Since the turn of the century, he's devoted time to family, teaching and private big-ticket events like weddings and bar mitzvahs. The closing of Zanzibar Blue and Ortlieb's left Posmontier with fewer clubs to play. "I love Chris' Jazz Café, but I'm not a kid so the 11-to-2 slot can be tough." (He laughs when I remind him his own kid, pianist Alex, has played Chris'.) Besides, the cigarette smoke at jazz bars really got to him.

"The fact is I got jaded," he says frankly. "The pickings were easier during the '70s and '80s. It's a challenging proposition dealing with club owners. You can spend a lot of time and energy trying to book one night at one club for very little money."

Then the private-party market dried up, too. The cigarette smoke cleared. And the pianist started staking out venues outside of Center City — LaRose in Germantown, Spence Café in West Chester. He became part of Philly's intergenerational jazz scene and developed a hankering to record his body of tunes, some of which had been part of his self-penned catalog for 30 years.

"I'm so glad that I finally did it — record an album — that I'm looking forward to doing the next one sooner and making it more electric piano-filled and funky," laughs Posmontier.

Posterity's pretty funky. Not so much in a James Brown fashion. Rather, after having witnessed the keyboardist in many settings — including the languid fluidity of his time with Gardner and the pastoral bop of PBQ — hearing him hunkered down on an acoustic piano gives the proceedings a raw-knuckled physicality reminiscent of the heft of his organ trio with Roker and Barnes.

"That's the grit you're hearing," says Posmontier of playing a Yamaha grand piano throughout Posterity. "I really dug in. It made the songs more pianistic."

The finale, in particular — the moody ballad "Peace of Change" — is particularly raw in a way that has nothing to do with his playing style. "Zan always asked me to play that song for her," notes Posmontier. He backed the late, great vocalist Zan Gardner on record and in live settings. "She really loved that song. It needed to be there."

That sentiment — needing to be there — is a mantra for Posmontier and the mission statement for Posterity. Though he's been a lover of jazz piano legends Ahmad Jamal and Oscar Peterson throughout his career, it's Herbie Hancock's taste and diversity through all genres that turns Posmontier on most. "He makes every note count. I like to think I do that. You don't have to roll with excess. Just make every note have purpose. Make it need to be there."

(a_amorosi@citypaper.net)